


Nobody wants him here more than I do.

by juniperhoot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Canon Divergence, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Schmoop, Work In Progress, obligatory pie, porny goodness, post 9x03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperhoot/pseuds/juniperhoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the end of "I'm No Angel" (the third episode of season 9).  This is a work in progress, starting with the events at the end of that episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You can't stay here.

“You can't stay here.”

The words tasted wrong, and ugly, and out of place. Even as he said them, Dean wondered if he had the strength to enforce them. Not with the pleading eyes of a too-trusting fallen angel directed at him. Not when he'd seen him die – yet again – only to have him brought back. After all the losses, all the reunions, you might think it'd get easier. But somehow, it's not like that, perhaps because every time feels a little riskier. At what point is it too much to ask, too much to hope that this won't be the last goodbye?

When Zeke told him it was too dangerous for Castiel to stay with them in the warded bunker, Dean reluctantly agreed, for Sammy's sake. But now... as he tried to do the right thing for his brother, it felt wrong. He swallowed the bitterness of the moment, offering to help Cas pack a few things for the road, leading him down a corridor to the room he'd claimed for himself. “Look, I have some cash, and uh, some clothes and stuff. I don't want you eating from dumpsters and living under an overpass somewhere, like a frickin' hobo.” He tried not to make eye contact as he riffled through his closet, pulling out a few shirts and a sturdy jacket. “I'm pretty sure those'll fit you, Cas. Hell, you'll make 'em look good.”

“Dean.”

The elder Winchester froze, gaze riveted to the floor. Castiel stepped toward him, tentatively reaching toward him. “I don't want to go. But if you say I must... You know I can't refuse you, Dean.” His fingertips brushed the upper arm of the hunter, unwittingly recreating a mirror image of Dean's earlier aching, not-ready-to-grieve-again touch. As he made contact, Cas remembered the first time his hand touched this man – when he gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, all those years ago. He'd left his mark on this self-sacrificing Winchester that day. And the man he'd saved had somehow left reciprocal indelible marks on Castiel.

Dean's eyes swept up from the floor to meet the soulful gaze of this former angel, and they stood there, eyes locked, the more profound bond asserting itself against all reason or thoughts of Sam's safety.

“Screw this. Change of plans.”


	2. Lying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel – Ezekiel – insists it's too dangerous for Cas to stay here, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, so you pretend to kick him out, then put on a show for both Sam and his inner angel, to convince them you actually went along with that crap plan? Okay, maybe Dad would be less likely to sing your praises here, buddy. “Dean, I think your judgment might be clouded. I know you and this guy have been friends, and have some history, but he's not blood. Your brother should always come first. Don't let me down, son.”

Dean headed to the kitchen, grabbing a fork and a half-eaten apple pie from the refrigerator. He plopped down in a chair, and dug in.  With a deliberately clouded expression, he glanced at Sam between bites.  Subtle.

“Uh... Dean? You gonna eat that whole thing?”

As if in reply, the elder Winchester stabbed his fork into the pie, picking up half a slice in one fell swoop. He crammed the overloaded forkful into his mouth, chewing noisily and glaring at his nosy brother.

“Dude. Everything okay? Where's Cas?”

Dean shrugged, shoveling pie into his mouth like a man with something to prove.

“Seriously, bro. What the hell's wrong with you? Where is he?” Sam joined his brother at the table, reaching toward the last piece of pie. Green eyes flashed a warning at him, and he quickly took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. He rolled his eyes, quietly muttering at Dean, “So territorial with your pie, man. Jeez.”

Sam settled into silence, warily observing his brother's sullen aspect as he ate every last goddamn crumb from that pie tin before throwing it across the room. He'd seen him like this before, of course. It's impossible to spend years on the road with someone and not notice the occasional black mood. There had been times when their father was missing, or in danger, that seemed to trigger something like this in his older brother. But in recent years, there was really only one person who could set off such a mood in the usually-stoic, macho Dean. He frowned, wondering what could have triggered this sudden mood shift. Without saying a word, Sam retrieved the discarded pie tin from its resting place in the corner, dropping it in the trash before returning to the table.

“Cas had to leave.” Dean forced himself to say the words, blinking a few times.  He looked at his brother, and - more importantly - past his brother, speaking directly to the angel in there, somewhere, keeping him alive. Zeke was only trying to help him, right? So he shouldn't feel this hostile, this pissed off, but he couldn't help it. For this one moment, he let his green eyes burn with frustration, and a bit of sadness, and hoped it would be enough to take further discussion of this subject off the table. “He insisted it was better this way. I gave him a few bucks and... some of my stuff, and let him out through the garage. And I don't want to talk about it, so let's just... not.”

Abruptly rising from the table, he placed a hand over his slightly-distended belly. “Whoa. I should not have eaten that much pie. Why didn't you stop me, Sammy?” He poured himself a drink from the fancy, old-man-style crystal carafe, knocking back a large gulp of bourbon. _Thank you, Men of Letters._  Adding a little more to his glass, he took a smaller sip and sighed. “I'll be in my room. Need some time to think.”

_Oh man, you are slick, Dean. The pie might have been a little over the top, admittedly, but... damn, dude. Let's see, that makes how many lies you need to keep straight? Sam's possessed by an angel because he'd die without him in there, but you can't tell him, because he'd rather be dead than possessed... again. So every time he's gotten hurt lately, and then magically healed? More lies, to keep everyone happy. Can't you just hear Dad commending you for your sense of duty, just like the old days? “Well done, son. You always take good care of this family.”_

_And the angel – Ezekiel – insists it's too dangerous for Cas to stay here, but you can’t bring yourself to do it, so you pretend to kick him out, then put on a show for both Sam and his inner angel, to convince them you actually went along with that crap plan? Okay, maybe Dad would be less likely to sing your praises here, buddy. “Dean, I think your judgment might be clouded. I know you and this guy have been friends, and have some history, but he's not blood. Your brother should always come first. Don't let me down, son.”_

There was a time when, without question, Sam would have come first. Hell, it's been like that most of your life and you know it. So what's changed?  Closing and locking his bedroom door, Dean sat on the edge of his bed, scowling a little. He knew full well what had changed. _Everything._

It would be hours before Sam went to bed for the night, so for the time being, he was committed to continuing the appearance of a self-indulgent sulk. _Funny that I know Sammy would expect me to be busted up over Cas leaving. When did that happen? Come on, who are you trying to kid?  It's been going on for years now, man. Whenever Cas goes away, you pretty much shut down, worrying about him, wondering where he is, hoping he's alright... singing a goddamn Air Supply song in the car, so your brother thinks you've lost it. Hell, maybe this time, you have._

_“You know I can't refuse you, Dean.” Jesus. Why would those words trigger so many feelings?  Such a flood of... I mean, that's just how Cas is, right? He's just over the top in the way he talks to you. He's always been like that. He's not saying he's... well, you know. Pull it together, man. It's not like that... is it? Or is it?_ A sudden, unbidden image of Castiel, with those puppy dog eyes fixed on him, slightly rumpled, tie all fucked up _(as always),_ five o'clock shadow dusting his upper lip and jaw _(is it like that right after he shaves or what?)_ , standing too close _(as always)_...

_He's always looked at you like you're the center of his universe... and you know damn well, you've always eaten that shit up.  Damn it, Dean.  You like knowing Cas will come running when you call.  You like how he invades your space, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.  You like that he has protected -- no, killed -- for you over and over again.  And you like knowing that, after everything you and he have been through, everything that’s happened, he still looks at you the way he does.  Even when you're telling him he has to leave, he looks at you with... those fucking adoring eyes._

Closing his eyes, Dean leaned back against his pillow.  He’d always skated a fine line with Cas, and he knew it.  There were plenty of times he’d allowed himself to say things that, if they’d been addressed to a woman, would have been flirtation.   _Oh, and they weren’t because Cas is a dude, right?  Yeah, man, because you were totally not flirting with him all the times you winked at him.  Or when you saw him staring at you with those goddamn intense eyes, and told him the last time someone looked at you like that, you got laid?  Yeah, not flirting at all.  Because you’re Dean Winchester, and you’re so not into dudes.  Even if the dude in question is the first thing you think of when you wake up, every single day.  And the last thing you think of when you close your eyes at night.  And after that, when you’re dreaming, and your guard is down…_ Dean’s pie-stuffed stomach fluttered a little, remembering the forbidden places his dreaming mind went with Cas.  The forbidden places he sometimes lingered in, secretly -- especially lately, with a room to himself.   _Yeah, you’re not at all into him, man.  You just can’t stop thinking about the fullness of his lips (probably soft, but firm… stop thinking about kissing him), or the way you tremble a little at his touch (has he noticed the times you’ve had to shift in your seat to hide what was going on there?), or the way he smells (warm, masculine… it’d be nice to wake up smelling that on your pillow, wouldn’t it?)..._

“Damn.  I’ve got it bad.”


	3. Testing the Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He closed his eyes for a moment, then drew a shaky breath and turned to look at the man seated beside him. “That's the thing... he is my brother. And you're right, I still have to protect him. But damn it. You're... you’re Cas.”

It was very late that night, when Castiel heard very soft footsteps approaching his door. He held his breath for a moment, knowing it was important that his presence here remain a secret. He wasn’t entirely sure why that was – after all, the bunker was well warded. But he trusted Dean. There had been something in his eyes, something in the way Dean made the decision to allow him to stay... If he wanted him hidden away down here in the “dungeon,” as he called it, it would have to do for now. It meant a roof over his head, and a comfortable bed, and food. And visits with Dean. Yes, that thought alone was enough to make this tiny hidden chamber feel like a precious sanctuary, a place of holiness for a fallen angel, robbed of grace. Even solitude in such a place was preferable to going back out into the world, to face the wrath of his many outcast brothers and sisters.

“Cas. Open up. It’s me.” At the sound of Dean’s whisper, the former angel released the breath he’d been holding. He rose from his seat on the bed, and unlocked the door, opening it just enough to allow passage before closing it behind Dean, sliding the lock into place. Dean kept his voice low, stepping away from the door as he spoke. “I brought you some food, and a couple books I thought you might like, so you don’t go crazy in here.” He offered a tentative, almost apologetic smile, setting the offerings on a nearby chair.

Castiel looked fixedly at his friend, certain Dean was taking a risk by keeping him here, but less certain of his reasons for such risk-taking. He placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, allowing an unchecked glow of warmth and admiration to creep into his cobalt eyes. “Thank you, Dean. That was… very thoughtful. Your concern for my well-being is appreciated.”

Dean stood there, rooted in place, powerless to break free from Castiel’s intense gaze. _Tractor beams, man. He’s locked them on you. Again. You’re getting pulled in, and don’t have enough engine power to break free. Aaaand now you’re using nerd references to distract yourself from once again getting a boner just from the way he’s looking at you. What is your problem? Play it cool, man. First things first. You can do this._ Clearing his throat, Dean turned and stepped away, trying to ignore the loss of heat from Castiel’s hand. “Yeah, about that… listen, Cas. I need to explain... about earlier.”

“There’s no need. I understand, Dean, perhaps better than you think I do. You believe there is some risk in having me here. It’s no secret I am… a high profile personage. All of heaven’s armies were expelled from their home, thanks to my foolishness. I am a wanted man.” Castiel gave a rueful shrug, then returned to his seat on the bed, too lost in thought to notice Dean adjusting his jeans at those last words.

Still facing the other way, the hunter nodded slightly. There were some things he simply couldn’t explain yet, not without putting both Sam and Cas in danger, but something needed to be said. Dean had to be sure they were okay, that there were no fresh wounds between them. His voice was thick as he offered a wisp of an explanation, built from words he knew were inadequate as he spoke them. “Uh... yeah. Look... it's really complicated, and I can't say a lot, but... Sam's still bouncing back from the trials, and... I almost lost him. And I just don't think I can do that again, Cas. Not right now.” Clenching his jaw, Dean turned to face the seated figure on the bed, silently willing him to understand.

Castiel sat there, head tilted slightly to one side. _There’s that puppy face again._ After a few long moments, Cas gave a slight nod. “He is your brother. In the years I have known you, you have always considered his safety above all else. It is something I have come to accept about you, Dean. I cannot fault you for it.”

Tentatively, Dean perched on the very edge of the bed, not even an arm's length from Castiel. He closed his eyes for a moment, then drew a shaky breath and turned to look at the man seated beside him. “That's the thing... he is my brother. And you're right, I still have to protect him. But damn it. You're... you’re Cas.” He felt himself trembling, uncertain how to proceed. _Why is this stuff so hard to say?_ Barely managing a husky whisper, he confessed, “I know there are times I've let you down. Times I've chosen him over you. But... I can't do that this time. I need you. Here. With me. You're the only thing I believe in anymore, Cas.”

Dean raised a trembling hand to cradle that slightly-stubbly jaw he'd been contemplating for so long. _Strong jawline, hint of a cleft chin… man, you picked a nice-lookin’ vessel._ His thumb gently brushed over the lips he'd imagined kissing so many times. _The tractor beam is back. Screw it, man. Engage thrusters and... whoa, better not let your mind go there yet. One step at a time... how about you just stick with the tractor beam for now, inner nerd._ He slid his hand around behind Castiel’s head, catching a handful of thick, dark hair. Giving a gentle tug, he drew closer, until their foreheads rested against one another, their eyes locked in an endless feedback loop of unspoken but intense sexual desire.

“Dean, I know talking about pornography is forbidden, but... would it be inappropriate to mention my extreme state of arousal right now?”

_Damn._ With a quiet growl of, “Cas…,” Dean gave in to the inevitable. Casting aside years of rationalization and self-denial, he pressed his lips to those of this alternately naïve and strangely worldly former angel. A raw, primal thrill ran through him as the shock of _ohmygodwhatamIdoing_ was replaced by a surge of _ohmygodIwanthistongueinmymouth_. His teeth gently tugged at Castiel's lower lip, eliciting a low moan as he wrapped an arm around him, caressing his back. Dean's tongue traced the lips beneath his own, then darted between them. He groaned hungrily as Cas eagerly responded to – and reciprocated – this intrusion. _Holy hell, he learned fast._

Dean unzipped Castiel's red hoodie, peeling it -- and the t-shirt -- off and tossing them aside. He’d seen Cas shirtless before, but not like this… with his unforgivably beautiful body so clearly eager to be touched by the one man for whom he’d risked everything, time and again. In a blinding haze of need, Dean barely registered the fact of his own shirt being unbuttoned and removed. He shivered at the sensation of Castiel's warm, inquisitive fingers grazing a sensitive nipple as the former angel pushed him backward onto the bed. Cas pinned Dean beneath him, their hips grinding together as they kissed. _Oh my god he wasn't kidding about that arousal. Damn, Cas, what are you packin' down there?_

Dean felt a tug at his waistband. Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's ear and whispered smokily, “Would it be alright if I remove your jeans? They can't be comfortable in this state.” As if an explanation were needed, Cas slid one hand a little lower to cover the state in question. He nuzzled at Dean’s neck, while his hand lingered on the erection straining beneath the snug fabric of Dean’s pants, lightly stroking the increasingly intriguing outline of it. His mouth blazed a trail of kisses across Dean’s chest, licking and biting at skin that had gone too long without intimate contact, skin that had tingled in this man’s presence for far too fucking long now. Castiel savored the sharp intake of breath from the man pinned beneath him.

“You keep that up, Cas, you won't need to bother. I'm gonna lose it, man."

Castiel paused for a moment, brow furrowed with confusion as he directed an inquiring gaze at Dean. “Does that mean you want to keep your jeans on? Or was that--”

“Jeans off, Cas. I want them off.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Eager to accommodate Dean’s wishes, Castiel rose and quickly stripped off his own pants, then returned to work on the offending jeans. He tugged at Dean's waistband, trembling with anticipation as his fingertips grazed the patch of dark hair there. His brooding blue eyes swept over the lean musculature of the hunter's lower abdomen, unabashedly fascinated by this gradual revelation of golden skin and masculine beauty. The sculpted lines of this man's body, from his straight, strong nose and jaw to his broad shoulders and firm belly, were masterful works of art in themselves, all worthy of closer examination. But in this moment, as Dean was finally laid bare before him, Castiel's eyes grew wide. He crawled back into bed, their naked bodies at last entwined. Castiel's hand slid down to capture Dean's now-liberated erection. His voice was husky, saying as he met Dean’s gaze, “I bore witness to the unsurpassed beauty of the earth when it was young. I've seen the vastness of this universe, and heard the seraphim in song. And I can say with all honesty, Dean... in all my long years of existence, I have never known such wonder.”

For just a moment, Dean lay there in stunned silence, his body trembling as Castiel's hand slid tenderly over his aching shaft. _It has been way too long since anyone touched me like that... hell, has anyone ever? Really? Not while looking at me like that, that's for damn sure._ Their eyes locked, eloquently conveying years of unspoken devotion. Dean pulled his best friend into a ravenous kiss, eagerly devouring Castiel's mouth, softly moaning into him. Wrapping his arms around Cas, the hunter rolled to the side, until he was on top, savoring the sensation of their erect cocks grinding against one another. His lips brushed over the ever-present stubble on Cas's jaw, then returned to claim the mouth that had spoken so many words of concern, so many words of devotion, over the years. How had he been so blind to the depth of this angel's – this _man's_ – feelings for him? What had he feared? He continued his survey of Castiel's face, peppering it with kisses, noting the expression of mingled awe and joy and desire there. _This should have happened a long time ago, damn it._

Dean's teeth tugged at Cas' earlobe, then he gently sucked it into his mouth. Castiel drew a sharp breath, then murmured, “You are... very good at this, Dean. I... I like that thing you're doing with my ear.”

A slow grin spread over Dean's face, causing his eyes to crinkle as they only ever did for Cas. He pulled up and looked at the fallen angel in his arms, affectionately brushing his fingers through Cas' hair. “You like that, eh? Good. Let's see what else you like.” He began to slide his body lower, biting at the smooth skin of Castiel's chest, flicking his tongue over one nipple, then the other. Dean suckled there for a moment, his teeth gently nipping at the dark, pebbled flesh.

Castiel's body arched upward, and he tried to speak again. “That is...”

“Just the beginning, trust me.” Dean brought his hands up onto Castiel's chest, circling his thumbs over the erect nipples there. He kissed his way lower on Cas' abdomen, remembering the wounds he'd seen there, his tongue bathing the now-healed flesh in a silent pledge of protection. _You've taken care of me for so long, Cas. It's my turn now. I want to take care of you._ Settling in between Castiel's thighs, Dean kissed the outline of the former angel's hip bones as he wrapped his fingers around Castiel's rigid cock. With slow, deliberate strokes, Dean teased at the erection before him, nuzzling at the dark hair at its base, inhaling the uniquely masculine scent of Castiel.

He licked and nibbled his way up the shaft, then planted a delicate kiss on the velvety tip. His tongue flicked out, lapping up the bead of liquid already seeping out. Castiel moaned, his hips thrusting upward in a pleading gesture. Relishing this slow tease, Dean bathed Cas' cock in kisses and nibbles, then wrapped his lips around its hot, throbbing head. Dean's tongue circled the tip, savoring the taste of the only man he'd ever imagined in exactly this position – pinned beneath him, moaning and bucking and begging for more. His mouth slid down, taking in more of Cas' erection as his tongue continued swirling over the excruciatingly sensitive flesh, provoking wave after wave of shudders from Castiel. _Goddamn, this is hot. Hotter than any dreams could've prepared me for._

Cas buried his fingers in Dean's hair, the sounds escaping him becoming increasingly guttural. His experience in these matters was limited, to put it mildly, but he knew his body couldn’t take much more. There was barely a moment of warning, as Cas gasped suddenly, his tone urgent as he growled, “Dean, I think I'm--” The sentence abruptly ended, the words buried under wave after wave of excruciating pleasure as it rolled over Castiel, reducing him to a writhing, groaning, panting wreck. Dean swallowed, reverently devouring the hot, thick liquid erupting into his mouth, cherishing it as the culmination of a holy rite – worshiping, body and soul, the only being he'd truly prayed to in years. There were no gods, no demigods, no angels who could lay claim to his devotion – none of them had ever been what Cas had been, what Cas had become.

He crawled up alongside Castiel, wrapping a long leg over the former angel's torso and planting a kiss on his forehead. Castiel wore a dazed, almost disbelieving expression. “Dean... that was...”

“Long overdue. I know.”

Castiel shook his head, smiling as he traced Dean's fine features with tender caresses. “It was amazing. A revelation.”

Dean's aching cock twitched against Castiel's hip, and Cas' face clouded for a moment. “Forgive me, Dean, I was so lost in... what just happened... I have failed to reciprocate.”

Dean’s face was a mask of mingled stoicism and affection as he said quietly, “Cas, seeing you like that, knowing I could make you feel like that... I... I couldn't hope for more.”

The former angel propped up on one elbow, his other hand resting on Dean's chest. “After all that... you still don't believe, do you?” He leaned in close, his face hovering over the most beloved features he'd ever seen, as he whispered firmly but affectionately, “Dean Winchester... you... deserve... to be loved.” He drew Dean into a kiss, allowing his tongue to express the years of cherishing, the years of longing, the years of setting this man apart from all others. Then he eased himself down along that magnificent body, the body he'd raised from perdition, each kiss, each gentle bite offered as silent testament to the depth of his love for this man. His hands stroked the insides of Dean's thighs, marveling at the long, lean muscles. Castiel leaned in, biting the tender skin of one thigh and sucking it into his mouth.  _That's gonna leave a mark._

“Oh shit, Cas... do that again.”

A surprisingly lascivious smile spread over Castiel's face as he watched Dean's erect phallus bob with anticipation. He nuzzled Dean's balls, his breath hot and intimate as he swiped his tongue over the wrinkled skin, gently teasing, before turning his attention to complying with Dean's request. Creating a matched set of rapidly-purpling love bites on Dean's thighs, Cas admired his work, then raised his eyes to meet Dean's lustful gaze. “Are there... any other requests before I...?”

Dean shook his head, his green eyes nearly black with arousal. He watched as Castiel's mouth closed over him, marveling at the sight of something he'd imagined so many times. Dean's eyes fluttered shut, and he sank back into the pillow, surrendering to the white hot lust suffusing him, all thoughts of the world disappearing into the only reality that mattered. _Cas. Just Cas._ His body had ached for this for so long, and he wanted to savor it and make it last, but after all that self-denial, it wasn't going to take long. Not when Cas' mouth was so soft, so hot, so all-consuming. Not when he seemed to know exactly where his tongue was needed, and when to slow down, and when to speed up. Not when he was so clearly enjoying doing this... _How can he be this good at this? How the hell much porn has he been watching? Whatever. Thank you, porn, for teaching him to do this with his mouth._

Conscious thought gave way to all-consuming, earth-shattering sensation, and Dean threw his arm over his mouth, stifling his moans. “Cas… oh yeah, Cas…” Castiel responded with a muffled groan of pleasure that rumbled around Dean’s cock, pushing Dean over the edge. Castiel was, initially, hesitant to swallow, but quickly realized the alternative was… messy. He gulped quickly until he was sure Dean was finished, carefully licking up the stray drops he’d allowed to escape. Satisfied with his work, he rested his cheek against Dean’s thigh, smiling and sighing contentedly.

Dean trailed his fingers through Castiel’s hair, gently petting him. He was utterly exhausted yet strangely exhilarated. He didn’t think, didn’t analyze any of what had just happened… he simply existed in the warmth of afterglow. His features fixed in a drowsy smile, he allowed himself to savor this moment of serenity. Castiel peered up at him from his cozy nest between Dean’s long legs, his cobalt eyes shining with delight at the rare sight of such contentment. He planted one last little kiss on Dean’s sated cock, then crept up beside him, wrapping his arms around him.

“That was… unexpected.” Cas nuzzled gently at Dean’s neck, a curiously playful expression on his face.

Dean chuckled, burying his nose in Cas’ hair, breathing in his scent as he hugged him tightly, murmuring, “Yeah, I… sorta surprised myself.”

Castiel froze for a moment, looking up at Dean with a hint of distress and confusion. “Dean... I hope you don’t feel I took advantage of you. I believe I interpreted your… signals… correctly.”

“I kissed you, Cas. Kinda hard to misinterpret that.” He brushed his lips over Castiel’s forehead, the gesture of reassurance lending weight to his words.

“Hmm. Yes, you did.”

“And that part where I put your cock in my mouth? Not my most subtle moment.”

“You have a point.” Castiel relaxed again, closing his eyes and smiling against Dean’s shoulder, sighing sleepily, “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean pulled a blanket up over their naked bodies, not ready to sneak back to his room just yet. Holding Castiel, listening to his breathing slow as he drifted off into sleep, was too tempting to be denied. Dean still had a few hours before he needed to worry about being missed, and he intended to make the most of them.


	4. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would have felt awkward and wrong to attempt to head back to his room right after one of those. But that was several hours ago, and he’d meant to sneak back to his room at some point. Dean hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Now it was… well, way the hell later than he meant for it to be, and he was still in Cas’ bed.

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, that whole “stay here, enjoy the moment, curled up next to Cas” thing. After all the sadness they'd both known in recent years, it gave Dean deep satisfaction to bask in the damn-near beatific smile that refused to fade even after Cas fell asleep. Then there were the slow, dreamy makeout sessions scattered over the wee hours of the morning.  It would have felt awkward and wrong to attempt to head back to his room right after one of those. But that was several hours ago, and he’d meant to sneak back to his room at some point.  Dean hadn’t meant to fall asleep.  Now it was… well, way the hell later than he meant for it to be, and he was still in Cas’ bed. It was a nice place to be, but… eh, hopefully, Sammy was still asleep.

Cas stirred a little, softly murmuring Dean's name as he rolled over to face him, a tender smile illuminating his features. His gravelly voice was relaxed and sleepy.  “All those times I watched over you when you were sleeping... I never believed I would wake up beside you like this.”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Yeah, I can't say I ever expected this to happen... thought about it a lot, had some, uh, pretty fuckin' intense dreams about you... but didn't really think we'd ever have... well... this.”

He pulled Castiel closer, nuzzling at him and inhaling his scent before pressing in for a kiss. It was all so new, and so good, and Cas was so incredibly responsive to everything he did... Dean set aside thoughts of returning to his room, as he sank deep into the kiss, intertwining his legs with Cas', groaning at the sensation of their burgeoning erections rubbing together. Their hands roamed and explored still-new territory, smoothing over one another's well-muscled backs, gripping at arms and thighs, kneading the round, firm buttocks that filled jeans so appealingly.

Dean's hand slipped between them, taking them both in his hand and giving a few long, slow strokes. Cas moaned into Dean's shoulder, luxuriating in the potent sensual pleasure of his lover's touch. Their bodies writhed in concert, hips grinding, the sensitive undersides of their cocks sliding up and down against each other with increasing intensity. Their eyes met and remained locked as they rode closer and closer to release, taking in every breath, every shudder, every expression of pleasure as it manifested.

“I'm so fuckin' close, Cas... so close... I want to see you come.”

Between moans, Cas gasped raggedly, “Dean... you make everything... feel so good... my brain doesn't seem to... ohhh...”

Cas shuddered into incoherence, carrying Dean over the edge with him, their bellies growing slick with their milky release. Sated, they lay still for a moment, panting and staring at each other. Dean reached around and grabbed Cas' discarded t-shirt off the floor. He used it to clean them up a little, then tossed it back to the floor with a sheepish grin. “Uh, I assume you weren't planning on wearing that again today.”

Cas shook his head. “No, even though I'll be spending most of the day by myself, you've given me enough shirts that I can afford to opt to wear something that isn't covered with our semen.”

Dean laughed, his heart swelling with appreciation for the strange, wonderful ways Cas expressed himself.

“Is sex always like this, Dean?” Cas had that curious, thoughtful puppy expression Dean had seen so many times. “So intense, I mean.”

Dean snorted and shook his head. “Not in my experience, no. I mean, don't get me wrong... I've had my share of good sex.” He paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “You know… if someone had told me sex could be better with someone you, uh, really care about... I'd have thought they were full of shit. Because sex is pretty great. Period. But...”

“This is something more, isn't it?”

Dean's breath caught for a moment. He looked at the beautiful man in bed beside him, the man he'd spent years secretly, stoically pining over. What had happened between them last night and this morning... was definitely something more. He was afraid to say what exactly, and felt like he was possibly on the verge of a panic attack, but he couldn't deny sex with Cas was the most intense, intimate thing he'd ever experienced. Everything was different now. He drew a shaky breath, and nodded. “Yeah, Cas. This is something more.”

The cobalt blue of Cas' eyes became almost luminous as he beamed at Dean. “I hoped you'd say that.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Cas' cheek, then smiled at him. “Listen, I should have been back in my room a while ago. I'd better go, in case Sammy decides he desperately needs to have another Very Serious Discussion with me.”

Cas nodded, sighing quietly. “I understand, Dean. Go, do what you must, and... hopefully you'll be able to come see me later?”

“As soon as I possibly can,” Dean said.  He dressed quickly, then paused to listen at the door.  “Hey.  Make sure you lock up behind me.” 

Dean stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him and listening for the sound of the lock.  Satisfied Cas would be safe for the day, the hunter made his way back to his room, where he crawled into bed.  Initially, he told himself he just needed to get in and rumple the blankets a bit, but he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep.  Once the blankets were pulled up over him, he surrendered to his exhaustion, and decided sleeping in sounded like an excellent plan.

It was lunchtime when he finally rolled out of bed.  His stomach was bitching about needing food, and at some point, a shower would probably be a good idea.  Food first, though.  He shuffled into the kitchen, scowling as he rummaged through the refrigerator.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Sam said, setting aside a book.  “Dude.  You look like shit.  And you’re wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.  How much did you drink last night?”

Dean pursed his lips, remembering the little show he’d put on, storming off to his room with booze in hand.   _Right then, hangover mode it is._  He shook his head.  “I dunno.  I’m fine.”

Sam shook his head, giving his brother a look of concern.  “Dean… you aren’t going to go all _Days of Wine and Roses_ on me, are you?  Cas’ll come back.  He always does.”

“We’re not talking about this, Sam.”  Dean slammed the fridge door and leaned against it for a moment.  He drew a breath, then began speaking quietly, his voice rising as he spoke. “I’m fine.  Cas’ll be fine, wherever he is.  Everyone’ll be fine.  Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, everything always turns out great.  Nobody ever goes off on their own and gets killed, or captured by a bunch of angel dicks, or tortured, or anything like that.  Everything’s always hunky dory in the life of a hunter, right?”

Sam blinked, taken aback by the intensity of Dean’s words.  Tentatively, he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, awkwardly patting him and half expecting Dean to whirl around and punch him.  “Sorry, man.  I’m just… I hate it when you get like this.  I worry about you.  If you need to talk… about, uh... anything, at all, seriously.  I’m here.  I won’t push.  Just… please, Dean.  Please don’t crawl into a bottle for however long it takes to convince him to come back.  We’ve got work to do, and you can’t afford to waste half your life drunkenly pining -- er, um, pissed off... or whatever.”  Certain he’d said too much, Sam beat a hasty retreat.  He grabbed the book he’d set aside and left his brother alone in the kitchen.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed heavily.  He hated lying to Sammy about all this crap with Zeke, and now having to act like he was upset about Cas leaving, to keep him hidden away?  Yeah, he’d do it to keep Cas safe, and to keep Sam safe, but he didn’t have to like it.  He poured a cup of coffee and grabbed a donut from a box on the counter, stuffing half of it in his mouth.  He headed back toward his room, munching on the donut and musing on Sam’s words.   _Wait a second, what did he mean by drunkenly ‘pining’…?  That little shit._

After a very long, desperately-needed shower, Dean felt slightly more prepared to deal with life. He'd spent some time zoning out under the stream of hot water, considering the complexity of his situation. His life was never simple and straightforward, but holy shit, it was getting out of hand lately. What happened last night was... something that needed to happen. He couldn't regret anything about it, other than that he'd resisted for so long, for reasons that made no sense now. This wasn't about being gay or straight or some other label that could be slapped on a person to make their existence easier to figure out. It was about being... well, hell, it was about being Cas and Dean, but together. Whatever the hell that meant. Finally.

And if – no, when – he was at liberty to be honest about it, he would kick the shit out of anyone who so much as raised an eyebrow. He couldn't imagine Sam having any objections... maybe some gloating, or some smug, knowing looks, but he kinda did that anyway. For now, of course, it still had to be a secret. There was nothing he could do, until Zeke finished up and got the hell outta Sam. Well, not nothing... Dean's face flushed as he thought of the many, many things he could do, so long as he and Cas were careful. And quiet. He shoved that thought aside, silently admonishing himself to save it for later. _Sammy might be pretty understanding, but if you walk around with a boner all day, he'll wonder what’s up. Er, other than... yeah._

When Dean headed to the main room, he found Sam sprawled out on the couch, long legs draped over the armrest, face buried in a book. His brother peeked out from behind the book, then resumed reading. Dean set his jaw, and approached him, clearing his throat. He tugged at the top edge of the book, just enough to make eye contact. He gave Sam an apologetic shrug and half-smile.

“I was thinking I'd pick up some supplies. We're, uh... outta pie, for some reason,” Dean grinned sheepishly. “So... got any preference for dinner?”

Sam stared soulfully at Dean for a few seconds, then dropped the book, awkwardly rising and pulling his brother into a bear hug. “I love you, man.”

“Whoa, where'd that come from? Let's not get carried away,” Dean said gruffly, trying valiantly to assume his best “no chick flick moments” posture. “I'm just getting groceries, dude.”

Sam laughed and released his brother. “Fine, fine. Uh, maybe Chinese? Want me to go with you?”

“Nah, “ Dean said quickly. He shook his head, and patted Sam's shoulder. “I think I can handle pie and Chinese food on my own. Get back to your book, Sammy. I won't be gone long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who've commented and sent me suggestions! I have a number of ideas in the hopper, and hope to be posting the next chapter soon (much more quickly than I managed this update). Constructive comments are always welcome!


	5. Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean just wanted to wrap himself in the sound and feel and smell of Cas, and forget everything that was wrong with this fucking world. Just for a day. Or maybe a few. Hell, it seemed like everything was always teetering on the brink of collapse, with or without his help. Hadn’t he earned a little time off?

Dean’s first stop was a drug store, for the obvious. Throwing some lube and a box of condoms in a little basket, he gave up resisting the stupid smile that had been threatening all day.  Sam wasn’t here to see it and ask why he looked like a giddy teenager.  He sure as hell didn’t owe anyone else an explanation for his good mood.  So what the hell.  He let himself grin.

He had a jumpy feeling in his belly, thinking about how much he wanted to be alone with Cas right now.  Yeah, he’d spent the night with him, but that was hours and hours ago.  And there were still spots on him Dean hadn’t yet touched, hadn’t tasted.  He needed to hear the surprising, sometimes baffling things Cas would say as they touched each other.  Dean just wanted to wrap himself in the sound and feel and smell of Cas, and forget everything that was wrong with this fucking world.  Just for a day.  Or maybe a few.  Hell, it seemed like everything was always teetering on the brink of collapse, with or without his help.  Hadn’t he earned a little time off?

At the grocery store, he debated apple versus blueberry for a solid twenty minutes.  He usually tended to go with the classic - apple - but had a gut feeling Cas would prefer blueberry.  Or maybe it was just that his eyes were so damn blue… Either way, thoughts of Cas trumped Dean’s default All American Pie this time.  Earth-shattering decision made, he paid a quick visit to their favorite Chinese takeout place, then headed back to the bunker.

Sam was still reading that massive book he’d been working on earlier, but was quick to set it aside when Dean came through the door, lugging several bags.  “Oh good, you’re back.  I need a break from research, and I’m starving.”  He leapt up and reached for a bag, only to be shooed away.

“I got this.  Why don’t you go get Kevin, eh?  Tell him he could use a break, too, and some food.  I’ll get the groceries put away.”

Dean set out some plates, and several large containers of what looked like a sampling of half the restaurant’s menu.  His brother and Kevin returned, and Dean smiled at him, patting his shoulder as he walked by.  The young prophet looked a little agitated.  He’d been holed up in his room for days, and had mostly been living on granola bars, despite repeated offers of meals.  It was good to see him come out of his hermitude for a bit.

Sam blinked at the spread on the table.  “Uh… are we expecting guests for dinner?”

Dean shook his head.  “Nope, I just got there and couldn’t remember which stuff Kevin liked best.  It wouldn’t be a bad thing if there were leftovers for lunch tomorrow.  Besides, I’m really hungry tonight.”

“Okay, but you put out four plates.  You planning on inviting Crowley to join us at the table?”  As soon as he’d said it, Sam regretted it, glancing at Kevin.  He’d grown visibly uneasy at the mention of the King of Hell.  Kevin didn’t like knowing the demon was locked up in one of the heavily warded “dungeon” rooms, and seemed to be struggling to maintain his composure.  Being a prophet was possibly the only job more difficult than hunting, and it had taken a significant toll on Kevin.

With a look that screamed  you had to go there , Dean grabbed the extra plate and hastened to put it back in the cupboard.  “Of course not.  I’m not sharing my fried rice with that dick.  I just put out too many plates, no biggie.”  He plopped down in a chair and started rifling through the takeout containers.  “Here, Kev, these are the ones with tofu.  If there’s one you don’t like, maybe Sammy’ll eat it.”  He winked at his brother, then grabbed one of the other containers and dumped out a pile of fried rice on his plate.

Kevin accepted one of the containers of stir fried tofu and vegetables, giving the Winchester brothers a look of mingled bewilderment and suspicion.  “Why are you being so nice to me?  Did something happen?”

Dean nearly choked on a mouthful of rice, sputtering, “Are you kiddin’ me, man?  I’m always nice to you.”

Sam smirked at Dean, then said to Kevin, “I think what my brother is trying to say is, he doesn’t need a reason to be nice to you.  You matter to us.”

“And before you say it, no Kevin, it’s not because you’re a prophet,” Dean hastened to add.  “Am I gonna have to keep sayin’ it, til you believe it?  You’re one of us, man.”

“Oh.  Well, thanks, guys.”

While the weary prophet turned his attention to the food before him, Dean caught Sam’s attention and lead him away from the table, ostensibly to show him the glorious blueberry pie he’d purchased.  He glanced over his shoulder at Kevin, then looked at Sam.  Voice low, he said, “I’m a little worried about him.  Did you get a good look at him?  He’s rockin’ a serious case of the crazy-eyes.  I think we may be pushing him too hard.”

Sam nodded, whispering back, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.  I just… well, I didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to suggest anything that would take him away from deciphering that tablet.  I know it’s important to you.  The sooner he gets it figured out, the sooner you can maybe convince Cas to come back, right?”

Dean’s jaw clenched for a moment, as he drew a sharp breath.  “Yeah.  Look, that’s still gonna happen.  You know I’m not gonna give up on that.  I’m not saying Kev’s off the hook.  I’m just sayin’... maybe he needs a little break.  A vacation or something.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up brochure for Branson, Missouri.  “I saw this by the door at the grocery store.  They have a whole touristy thing there, with some pretty nice-looking hotels and uh, indoor water parks, and mini-golf… stuff like that.  See, look at this, there’s even an Elvis tribute show.”

“Has Kevin mentioned a particular interest in Elvis tribute shows?”

“That’s not the point, Sammy.  The point is, I think he’s gonna lose it if he doesn’t get the hell outta here for a few days.  And that place is about as far from our lifestyle as you can get. Squeaky clean.  The brochure says right here…  family friendly good times .  I’m thinking a week, maybe ten days, he’ll be as good as new.”  Dean noted his brother’s skeptical expression, and sighed. “Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but at least he’ll be a little more relaxed, and look a little less like he’s ready to snap.”

Sam looked over at Kevin, furrowing his brow and sighing quietly.  “I’m not disagreeing.  He needs some down time.  So, are you thinking you’ll go with him?”

Dean shook his head.  “No, I was actually thinking you could use a break, too.  You’ve been hitting the books pretty hard.  You and Kev could do some brotherly bonding crap.  I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Crowley, and keep working on research.”

There was a subtle shift in Sam’s expression.  “Do you think it wise for your brother to leave this safe place right now?”

“Zeke... I wouldn’t send him if I thought he’d get into any trouble.  I’m sure he and Kevin will both be fine.  And you’ll be there, to make sure nothing serious happens.”

“I cannot risk exposure right now.  We’re at a delicate place in his healing process.”

With an exasperated sigh, Dean looked into his brother’s eyes, at the angel within.  “I get that.  But damn it, Zeke, I think this would be good for him.  And for Kevin.  Have you looked at Kevin lately?  The kid looks like he’s this close to going all Jack Nicholson on us.  Just… please.  I can’t tell Sam to go one minute, then turn around and tell him I changed my mind.”

The angel hesitated, then gave a slight nod.  “Very well.  I will ensure they steer clear of anything that could harm them.”

Before Dean could say a word of thanks, Sam’s expression shifted again.  “Wow.  You, doing research, on your own.  Okay, uh… I’m just gonna ask this because you seemed so weird this morning.  Are you okay?  Like, if I go on this trip, are you gonna be back here passed out on the floor the whole time?”

“Sammy.  Seriously.  I’m fine.  Like I said, I’ll babysit our guest and see if I can make some headway with the research.  It’ll do me good to focus my mind on something useful.”

His brother smiled and nodded a little.  “Alright.  I’ll do it.  And I’ll make sure Kevin has a good time.  Now may I finish my dinner?”

It was surprisingly easy to convince Kevin he needed a vacation, and his eyes lit up at the mention of the Elvis tribute show.  Dean made a few phone calls, then handed Sam a sheet of paper, and an envelope of cash.  “Man, you guys are in luck.  Front row seats for the show in three days.  Nice little suite reserved starting tomorrow.  I figure that gives you a chance to get settled into your hotel, check out the sights, maybe see if there are any other shows you want to see.  Live it up.”

Sam and Kevin headed off to their rooms to pack for their trip.  They had a seven hour drive ahead of them, so Dean suggested that they should get a good night’s sleep and head out just after breakfast.  He took his time clearing the table and washing the dishes.  He sorted out the leftovers, and chose a couple of containers to bring to Cas, putting them into a grocery bag along with what was left of the blueberry pie.  After a moment’s consideration, he added a few bottles of beer to the bag of groceries, and turned off the kitchen lights.  With a smile, he headed down the hall, toward Cas’ room.

Dean was halfway there when he heard a door open and close.   Shit.   He hesitated, then turned toward his own bedroom, quickly dropping the bag of food inside his closet. Moments later, there was a quiet knock at his door.

“Hey Dean, you awake?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Sam opened the door and peeked in.  “I know it’s getting late, I just… I wanted to make sure everything’s good here.”

“Sammy.  I told you earlier…”

“Yeah, I know.  You said you’re fine.  But here’s the thing, Dean.  I can’t shake the feeling something’s up with you.”  Sam stepped into the room, grabbing a chair.  “I think we both know what it is.  And… it’s okay.  Dean, it’s okay.”

Dean narrowed his eyes.  “What’s okay?”

“You.  Missing Cas.  And being gay.”

With a smirk, Dean said flatly, “Wow.  You just went right for it, there.”

“I had it rehearsed differently, but once I was sitting here with you, I figured I’d just… well, anyway.”  Sam looked down at his hands.

“Okay… so let’s just get a couple’a things straight here.  For starters, you get that there are more options than gay or straight, right?”  Dean paused for a moment, and Sam nodded.  “Right.  And uh… I do like women.  So obviously, not gay.  Capisce?”  For further emphasis, he picked up a stack of girly magazines and waved them at his brother. 

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded.  “Alright, so maybe my use of that term wasn’t entirely accurate.  But come on, Dean.  You can’t tell me you don’t feel something for Cas.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched a little.  He hadn’t planned on having this conversation just yet, not when he was still hiding so much.  But maybe this was for the best, getting at least a few of his cards out on the table.

“No, I can’t tell you that, because it wouldn’t be true,” Dean met his brother’s eyes, feeling a rush of exhilaration and terror at exposing something he’d held close to the chest for so long.  “I do feel something for him.  It’s just… hard to explain, man.”

“Is it really?  Or are you making it more difficult than it needs to be?”  Sam examined his brother’s face with an earnest intensity, then quietly added, “I’m not saying it’ll make everything perfect, but… I’ve seen how you two look at each other, Dean.  I think you need him.  And I’m pretty sure he needs you, too.  That’s not a bad thing.”

Dean stood up and pulled his brother into a hug.  “Thanks, Sammy.  Your support means a lot.”  He clapped his hand on his brother’s back, clearing his throat.  “Now, if you get your ass to bed right now,  I’ll get up and make breakfast for you guys before you head out.  Your choice - pancakes or French toast.”

“Whoa.  For real?  In that case, I’m on my way to bed now.  And pancakes would be great.  Thanks, man.”

For several minutes after Sam strode off down the hall, Dean sat on the edge of his bed, quietly contemplating the conversation he’d just had with his brother.  He’d been so sure Sam would be weird about it.   Unfounded fears, apparently.  A quick glance at the clock told him it was past midnight now.  Carefully, he crossed the room and pulled the bag of groceries from the closet, then slipped out into the hall.

Dean raised his hand to knock, and the door swung open.  Cas stood there, cobalt eyes shining, his hand gently brushing Dean’s cheek. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t be able to visit me tonight.”

“No fucking way that was gonna happen.”  Dean stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him.  He dropped the bag of food and pulled Cas close.  His lips eagerly claimed Castiel’s, and they stumbled together toward the bed, maintaining physical contact while managing to discard shirts and jeans along the way.

“Dean,” Cas murmured as his tongue traced the shell of Dean’s ear.  “I thought of you all day.  You have no idea what you do to me."

With a groan, Dean bit Cas’ neck, sucking at the flesh between his teeth.  “Pretty sure I’ve got a good idea, Cas.”  Tasting his way back to Cas’ mouth, he kissed him thoroughly, then paused for a moment.  “Listen, before this goes any farther… I, uh, picked up some stuff today.  Depending on what you want to do tonight.”

Cas gave a questioning look, then growled, “This…” as he pulled Dean close for another kiss.  “And this…”  His hand slid down to squeeze Dean’s ass, grinding their hips together.  Cas nuzzled at Dean’s ear, asking softly, “What else did you have in mind?  That thing we did with our mouths?  I liked that very much...”

“That’s, uh, that’s called a blowjob, Cas.  And yeah, that’s a definite classic,” Dean grinned and leaned in for another kiss, then propped up on his elbow.  “So… I don’t know what all you’ve seen, but there’s… something I’d really like, if you’re open to the idea.”  He leaned over Cas, reaching for the edge of the grocery bag to drag it closer.  He fished around, then set a box of condoms and bottle of lube on the mattress beside them.  Straddling Cas’ hips, Dean leaned down and whispered hotly, “I want your cock inside me, Cas.  I want you to fuck me.”

Cas licked his lips, nodding slowly.  “I think that would be very good, Dean.”  He glanced over at the items beside them, and hesitated.  “Have you ever done this before?”

Dean chuckled and winked.  “Yeah.  Trust me, I know what I’m doin’.”  He squeezed some lube onto his fingertips, and began preparing himself for penetration.  Cas wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock, slowly stroking and watching Dean with an expression of wonder and anticipation.  When he was ready, Dean tore open a foil packet with his teeth, and rolled a condom down over Cas’ erection.  He grabbed the bottle of lube, grinning wickedly at the moans elicited as he applied a handful of it to Cas’ cock.  “You think that’s somethin’, just wait til what comes next.”  Dean leaned down for a kiss, then leaned back, gently easing down over Cas’ cock.  He paused for a few moments to allow his body to adjust, then sank further on the shaft, uttering a soft groan.  “Goddamn, that’s good.”

Dean began a slow, rhythmic grinding, murmuring words of encouragement to Cas, who began to raise his hips to thrust deeper into Dean.  “I can take it, it’s okay, you can fuck me as hard as you want.  It feels… really fucking good, Cas.”

Needing no further encouragement, Cas held onto Dean and rolled over, keeping his thrusts slow and steady at first, savoring the new experience.  “This is amazing… being inside you like this…”  His eyes fluttered shut as he pumped his hips with increasing urgency.  “You feel so good…”  Cas opened his eyes again and gazed down at Dean.  “Touch yourself.  I want to see your hand on your cock, Dean.”  Dean drew a shuddering breath and obeyed, wrapping his long fingers around his dick and stroking in time with Cas’ thrusts.

“You like that?  You like watching me play with myself while you fuck me?”

“Very much.”  Cas watched Dean’s hand rise and fall, knowing it gave him pleasure, and murmured softly, “You are beautiful, Dean.”

Cas hoisted Dean’s legs over his shoulders, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, and Dean groaned loudly.  “Holy shit, right there, keep doing it just like that.”  As Cas continued to thrust, Dean came, hard, uttering a long, drawn out, “Ffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” Cas quickly joined him, unable to hold back any longer, moaning loudly as he reached orgasm.  He slowed his hips and gently eased out, collapsing on the bed beside Dean, panting.

Dean grinned over at Cas.  “Damn.  That was… Well,  damn .”  He looked around, then grabbed a discarded t-shirt off the floor, using it to clean himself and Cas, chuckling as he caught Cas’ expression.  “I probably oughta bring some washcloths, so I don’t keep doing that to our shirts, eh?”

“So long as you agree to do my laundry for me, I won’t object either way.”

“Fair enough.”  Dean’s eyes sparkled as he planted a gentle kiss on Cas’ shoulder.  “I bet you’re hungry.  I meant to let you eat dinner first, but when you opened the door--”

“I wanted you, Dean.  My body ached all day, whenever I thought of you.  I knew I would survive a little longer without food.  But without you?”  Cas shuddered and shook his head.

Dean smiled at him fondly as he caressed Cas’ cheek.  “You don’t have to survive without me anymore, Cas.”  He grabbed the bag of groceries and began pulling out containers.  “Let’s see… this one is some kinda noodley stuff, and this… this is sweet and sour chicken, I think.  Eat up, and then there’s pie for dessert.”  Dean withdrew a couple of beer bottles from the bag, popping the tops before handing one to Cas, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

Dean sat in silence for a few minutes, grinning and sighing contentedly as he watched Cas devour his dinner.  He dug around in the bag, pulling out the blueberry pie and another fork.  Impishly, he set the lid aside, and helped himself to a forkful of pie.  Cas watched him, then asked quietly, “Is there enough for me to have some of that?”  With a laugh, Dean scooped up another forkful, extending it toward Cas, who tentatively opened his mouth and accepted the bite of pie.  As he chewed, he smiled at Dean.  “This isn’t your usual.  You like apple.”

“I had a hunch you might like blueberry better.”

Cas beamed at Dean, visibly moved.  He leaned close, resting his head on Dean’s shoulder for a moment.  “That was… a very sweet gesture.  Thank you.”

Dean brushed his lips over Cas’ forehead, then cleared his throat.  “You better eat some more of this pie, or I’m gonna finish it off and regret it later.”  Knowing Dean well enough to recognize this was no idle threat, Cas picked up his fork and settled into enjoying the blueberry pie Dean bought for him.


End file.
